


The Chefs Table

by 74days



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Chefs, First Meetings, M/M, Shrunkyclunks, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 03:09:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12621796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: Bucky isn't sure who this guy is, but he certainly wouldn't mind getting to know him better...





	The Chefs Table

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haspel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haspel/gifts).



Bucky both loved and hated walking through Central Park. He loved it for all the same reasons everyone else did - it was green, open… it gave the illusion of being transported somewhere else. He could see the runners and the kids and the people out on the lake. It was a breath of fresh air on his walk to the subway. 

He hated it because at night, it just didn’t seem quite so tranquil - or so safe. He’d always been lucky that when he’d walked through the well lit paths that no one ever gave him any shit, but as he saw the crowd lounging on the bench he was going to have to walk past, he felt his heartbeat pick up. He had heard them as he walked along, loud - brash. He wouldn’t have minded much, but when they saw him approaching, they got a little quieter. For some reason, that was more worrying than the noise. 

He had $30 in his pocket and two wrapped up burgers in his bag - one for him and one for Becca, who would be waiting up for him to get back even though she knew that he’d be late and she’d be tired all day at school the following morning. 

“Hey dude,” one of the group said as Bucky got closer. He was younger than Bucky was expecting - better dressed than he was and too damn clean to be hanging out at 2am. 

Bucky nodded, keeping his head down. Clean kids meant good kids, right? He didn’t need to worry, right?

“Dude, I said ‘hey’,” the kid repeated. “Don’t be fuckin rude, yeah?” Someone snorted a laugh, hushed up quick by the others. Fuck. Bucky’s heart rate kicked up a notch further. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Long day, right?” Be friendly, be cool. Don’t let your stupid anxiety make this a problem.

“Where ya going?” the kid asked, breaking away from the group a bit, cutting over the route Bucky had planned on taking past them. He was gonna have to go around him. Fuck.

“Just home,” Bucky said, hunching his shoulders closer to his ears. 

One of the guys on the bench leaned forward. “Nah, hang out with us, man.” It didn’t sound much like an invite. 

“Gotta get home,” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice as clear, light, as he could. 

Someone made a hurt little sound in the back of their throat. “Rude, man. Here were are, inviting you to hang with us and you just blow us off?”

“Yeah, that's just fucking bad manners,” someone else said. Their tones were  light , mocking. Bucky knew when he was being made fun of - he knew when people acted like this that things were gonna get bad. No one was ever that nice in real life. 

“I just wanna get home to bed, you know?” he tried, grinning. Maybe his smile was too tight, maybe his voice was a bit too forced - they wouldn’t be able to tell, right?

“Yeah, he’s probably got work tomorrow,” someone said. “Flipping burgers, right?”

“Nah, look at how pretty he is,” another one commented. “You ain’t sellin’ burgers, right, man?” 

“He’s selling meat all right,” another said, leer in the voice completely evident. Fuck fuck fuck. Everyone laughed at that. Bucky knew what the sound of escalating confidence sounded like. He was trying to work out how to get past the group without showing how nervous they made him, when a flashlight hit them all. 

Bucky would have laughed at the way the group of preppy asshole kids flinched at the light - like some kind of badly written Anne Rice vampires (Becca had a thing for Brad Pitt, okay?) and how they all stepped back as one - but he was too distracted by the interruption. 

“What’s going on?” a voice said, bold, authoritative. Hard to see who was actually talking because the light was shining into their eyes, but Bucky was gonna bet on a cop. 

“Nothing, sir,” the kid who had spoken to him first said, his voice less confident - sounding younger and more unsure. “This guy was trying to cause some trouble with my friends. We were just asking him to move on.” 

Well shit. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, he was… uh…”

“Soliciting,” someone in the back said.

“Yeah. We were telling him to back off.” 

“And you were just heading home, I bet,” the voice said. “At this time at night.”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“Late study group.”

Fuck. They sounded even younger now - Bucky knew what he looked like in his oversized coat and scuffed jeans. 

“Off you go then,” the man said, sounding unamused. “And if I catch any of you out here again tonight I won’t let you off quite so easy.”

Bucky would have laughed at the way they scuttled off down the dimly lit path till they got to the wider, better maintained strip and bolted - but now he was too concerned that this stranger was about to cause him even more trouble. 

“I wasn-”

The light clicked off. “I saw them giving you shit from over there,” the man said, and without the light shining in his eyes, Bucky could see him a lot better. There was a lot of him to see. So much. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat and then start up even faster than before. He wasn’t a cop - well… if he was, he was plain clothes. “I thought I’d just check up.”

“Thanks.” It sounded a bit too much like a question. He had no idea if he’d just jumped out of the pan and into the fire. 

“Insomnia,” the man said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. Blond, maybe. In the dim light it was hard to tell. Jacked to fuck though, that was easy to see. He looked at the strip Bucky had been walking towards. “I’ll let you go. Sorry. I just…”

“It’s cool,” Bucky said, a little shocked he actually meant it. “Thanks.” He smiled, less tight, less forced. “I get a bit stressed over shit like that.” 

“Right,” the bigger man said. “Uh, I’m Steven, uh, Rogers.” He paused. “I’m gonna go through, that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction to where Bucky had been heading. 

“Right. James Barnes.” Bucky nodded. He remembered his manners a few moments too late.“Uh, thanks, Steve,” he said to the other man's back as he walked away.

“No problem.”

* * *

Three days later, Bucky was walking to work - cutting through the park because he never fucking learned - when he saw Steve. He wasn’t sure at first, it wasn’t  _ quite  _ dark and he was with another guy, but he was pretty sure that shoulders like that didn’t just happen to every guy in New York. 

“Hey, Steve?” he called out - before his brain could kick into gear and remind him what a stupid fucking idea that was. Steve (yeah, blond and jacked, it was him) snapped his head up, turning to Bucky with a look of surprise. The man he was with had placed a hand on his arm, as if to stop him from bolting. Shit. Over protective boyfriend? They certainly looked good standing together, neither of them strangers to the gym by the looks of things. “Steve? It’s James. Uh, from the park? The other night?”

Steve seemed to relax a little, and his friend took a step forward. “And who is Steve meeting up with in the park?” he said, but his tone was light, teasing. Becca sounded like that when she was about make fun of him. 

“James Barnes,” he said, grinning back. “He stopped me from getting… uh… bothered, by some kids.”

“Well that does sound like him. Sam Wilson,” he said, holding out his hand, which Bucky took with a grin. “Best friend of the aforementioned hero of the hour.”

Steve, who had been looking a little confused, suddenly grinned. Holy shit, that was a nice face when there was a smile on it. “Fuck you, Sam.” 

Bucky found himself grinning back. Sam seemed to give off a real friendly air - like if Bucky showed up at his door at 4am, Sam would offer to make breakfast before the interrogation started. Bucky liked that in a guy. “I just wanted to say thanks. Properly. I didn’t get a chance the other night.”

“Don’t mention it.” Steve said, looking about as bashful as a dude built like one of the nicer Greek Gods could. “I was just… you know. It’s okay.”

“No, no,” Sam cut in. “I could stand to hear more. Tell me all about it.” He grinned at Steve. “This one is too humble for his own good.” 

“Well, how about I tell you over dinner?” Bucky offered, before his brain - and the shocked smirk on Sam's face - explained just how flirtatious that sounded. “I mean - I mean, come with me to the restaurant and I’ll tell you while I make a thank you meal?”

* * *

Steve tried to hide his disappointment. Sam was always so outgoing and so much better with people than he was - of course James would be inviting him to dinner. James was even better looking in the late afternoon light than Steve remembered. His eyes, which Steve could only remember as dark, were actually a deep blue - almost navy - with a smile that made it a little harder to breathe. 

“I would, man, but I have a standing date with my moms tonight,” Sam said, bowing out with an ease Steve just couldn’t hope to copy. “You know how it is.”

“Of course.” James nodded, with a smirk that made Steve hate Sam, just a little, for being on the receiving side of it. “Well, Steve? Just me and you then, eh?”

Steve blinked. James was still asking him to go? To dinner? It wasn’t until the smile on James’ face started to look a little strained that Steve realised that he was just staring, not saying a thing. “No, yeah!” he managed, too quick. Not smooth like Sam. James didn’t seem to mind though, going on the smile that showed his teeth were just a little bit crooked. It made him look even hotter. 

“Awesome,” James said, sticking his hands into the oversized coat he was wearing and pulling out a wallet. “Here,” he said, handing something to Sam, a card, black with a red star on the front. He could make out some silver lettering, but nothing else. “Bring your mom along one night. It’s on the house.” 

Sam nodded, before flipping the card over. “Hey thanks, ma-” he said, before his eyes got comically large. “Holy shit!” He gaped - eyes shooting up to Steve. “Holy shit dude, you see this?” He waved the card at Steve, too fast for anyone to actually read what was on it. “Fucking hell, you’re  _ that  _ James Barnes?”

James laughed, looking amused. God, Steve was so fucked. Sometimes Sam might be a little much, and people weren’t sure how to take him, but James seemed to click with him right away. A not insignificant part of Steve knew that if they started dating, he’d be the loser listening to ‘Jessie's Girl’ on repeat and eating too much junk food. 

“I know I look like a trash hobo right now,” James was saying, eyes flickering over to Steve, “but I promise my kitchen is spotless.” 

* * *

Steve wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. Bucky looked… well… kinda broke. But the restaurant was right by one of the better areas - larger, shinier and reeking of expensive taste. The kind of money that was real quiet and real subtle and still managed to make everyone around look a little less polished. Steve always thought that about green leather. He remembered going to the bank with him mom once, and the manager had a desk, an old well polished oak thing - ornate. It had a green leather inlay on the top and it just looked… insultingly expensive. He hadn’t expected anything like that from Bucky at all. The sign over the door was black, with dark red lettering that almost made it hard to read. 

“Winter Soldier?” he found himself saying, confused. “Uh, I mean… it’s a nice name.”

James just laughed. “It’s a play on words.” James grinned, not looking at all worried that Steve just put his oversized foot in his mouth. “Have you heard of the Sunshine Patriot?”

“I get the feeling I probably should,” Steve said as he followed James through the door. There was a woman at the concierge desk, much better dressed than either of them, and she rolled her eyes when James walked past. “But… uh, no.”

James just grinned over his shoulder. Nice shoulders, Steve noticed - not too large, just broad enough to hint at the man under the bulky coat. “Well, to sum it up without going into stupid details no one actually cares about, it’s about when the going gets tough and the shit hits the fan - the Winter Soldiers are the ones that stay.” He paused at the door to the kitchen. Steve hadn’t even noticed much of the restaurant, too busy looking at the way James walked through the room like he owned it, confident. Nothing at all like the man he’d seen in the park, hunched up and nervous. “Like the opposite of a fairweather friend.” He pushed open the doors. “When I first wanted to open my own place, everyone just kinda laughed at me. I had minimal experience and zero money - and New York eats people like that without even stopping to chew.” Steve nodded. He wasn’t wrong about that. He loved his city, but he knew full well that opportunities were few and success stories were light on the ground these days. “Then my best friend, Natasha - you’ll see her later - she shows up one day and tells me she’ll bankroll the whole thing. So I named the place after her - she’s the one who didn’t back down, or turn away because it was hard.” 

The kitchens were gleaming - chrome and white and so brightly lit that it hurt the eyes a little. Already though, people were working away at stations, chopping, slicing, hauling bags of produce around as they worked. No one really seemed to notice, or care, that James had just walked in. “She wanted to call it Black Window but I figured that would put people off.” He grinned again. Steve felt his knees get a little weak. “Right, you sit here, and I’ll be back in like… 5 minutes. I don’t want to be an asshole, but try not to touch anything.” He looked over at a one of the groups of people preparing the vegetables. “You three, set up a table. This is Steven Rogers. He’s here to see what you can do.”

Steve felt a little bad the way they snapped up to attention like the raw recruits did when he’d been at Basic - keen and motivated and not at all ready for the shit that was going to come their way. 

“Yes, Chef!” they said in unison, producing a table and chair from what seemed like mid air. When James turned back to him, he winked. 

Fuck, he was good looking. 

* * *

Bucky grinned as he pulled on his whites, jeans forgotten on the chair beside him. Sure - maybe he’d been showing off just a little for Steve, bragging a bit. When they’d met, Bucky had been off his guard, on the back foot, but this was his world, and he was ready to prove that he was Hot Shit. His Ma always said that good food was the best way to get to a man’s heart and Steve was a big dude. He probably had to eat a lot - and Bucky was more than happy to provide. 

By the time he got back out onto the floor, Steve was sitting at the Chef's table, out of the way, but not so much so that he was out of the main part of the kitchen. Maybe not telling his juniors why Steve was there (their boss was hoping to get Steve’s phone number) was a little mean, but they were looking on top form, smart and sharp and Bucky wouldn’t have been concerned if Steve was the New York Times food critic. He paused. Well, maybe a little nervous, but still. He was only human. Steve looked good in his kitchen, a little too large to ignore, and a little too good looking not to catch the eye. 

“So!” he said, walking up to the small table. “Welcome to Winter Soldier.” He smiled, the one he would deny to his dying days that he practiced in the mirror as a teenager to get right - a shade of cocky bravado that he knew looked good, “And I’ll be your Chef tonight.” 

Steve smiled up at him. “Should I call you Chef, or James?” he asked, and Bucky liked the way his name sounded in Steve's mouth. 

“Well, all my friends call me Bucky, so let's’ start there.” 

“Sure thing, Buck.” Steve nodded, looking around as Bucky's heart stuttered over the shortened version of his nickname. “Are you expecting it to be busy this afternoon?”

Bucky grinned slowly. “Stevie - it might be a Tuesday, but we’ve been fully booked for a month and half. It’s gonna get hot in here.”

* * *

Bucky (and didn’t Steve just love the idea of being classed as one of James’ friends) hadn’t been wrong. The calmness of the preparation vanished the moment the first order came in, about half an hour later. Bucky had been talking to Steve as he did something confusing and a little sexy with a couple of knives and a leather strip when the first order hit the kitchen. And it didn’t stop. The table in front of him was filled with food like he’d never seen in his life before: delicate savoury mousses and strips of salmon so thin he could see through them. Something he couldn’t even identify on a bed of vegetables he couldn’t name if he’d been given a big bag of money turned out to be the best thing he’d ever eaten in his life. Each plate was small, just a taster of what the kitchen could produce, and through it all, Bucky was there. There wasn’t a plate that didn’t go out without Bucky checking, changing or adding something to it. The crash and clangs of the pots and pans didn’t even set Steve on edge like he’d expected either because how could they when it was obvious that Bucky was in full control? And the man himself kept Steve well entertained too - he was obviously busy, but he worked directly in the eye of the storm, methodical - precise - and hotter than hell. If he walked past where Steve was sitting, he would wink, grin or pause just for a moment to check that Steve was okay. There was a slight lull about two hours in, when he pulled up a chair and a McDonalds burger appeared as if by magic in his hands. When Steve had almost choked on his steak - perfectly done, tender enough that it just melted in his mouth - Bucky just grinned. 

“Leave me be, Steve.” He smirked. “I have my routines.” 

“You cannot be eating that crap when you could be having this,” Steve said, pointing with his fork at the plates on the table. He motioned to the unknown-but-delicious plate he’d just finished. “I don’t even know what that was, but I’d cut off my own arm for more - and you’re eating… a cheeseburger?” He paused. “A shitty cheeseburger at that?”

Bucky grinned at him, mouth full. There were a few stains on his whites, no longer quite as pristine as they had been at the start of the night. “I’ll have you know that I flipped my share of shitty burgers,” he said before swallowing, “and sometimes it just hits the spot.” He looked at the plate Steve had been pointing to and nodded. “The heart has been really popular since we introduced it,” he added, and Steve didn’t think he was a picky eater but…

“Heart?”

“Yeah. Pig. It’s been a good addition to the menu. I wasn’t sure - kinda seems a bit too try-hard, but people like it. I’ve been working on a new menu for the winter season and I think I’ll probably have to drop it. Red Room added ox heart to their new line up and I ain't gonna be a step behind those guys for love or money.” 

“Aren’t  _ they  _ copying  _ you _ ?”

“Yeah, assholes.” He shrugged, “But I’ve been in this business for a few years now and I know that it doesn’t matter who starts it. Never give people an opportunity to compare similar dishes, Steve.”

“Worried you won’t come out on top?” Steve asked, before he could think better of it. He didn’t need to wait and see if Bucky took that the wrong way. His laugh filled up the kitchen, causing a few heads to turn before everyone got back to work. 

“Stevie, I know we only just met - but let me tell you this.” He leaned over the table, close enough that Steve could feel the softness of his breath (only slightly tinged with the smell of greasy burger - not as unpleasant as Steve might have thought) and murmured low enough that only Steve would be able to hear him. “I  _ always  _ end up on top.”

* * *

Steve wasn’t sure how it happened, but he ended up giving Bucky his phone number. The man had made some comment about making sure Steve didn’t end up with food poisoning and needing to protect the integrity of his restaurant if Steve decided to give him a shitty Yelp! Review. He was grinning when he said it though, so Steve wasn’t worried that he thought Steve would  _ actually  _ do something like that. 

Knowing that Bucky had his number though, made Steve feel… nervous. He spent the whole journey home checking his mobile to see if Bucky would call or text, even though Buck had made it clear that he’d be working until a lot later - the last guests would be arriving at 11pm and Bucky would be staying until the last person left. 

“Are you going to be walking through the park?” Steve asked, remembering how he’d met the other man only a few days before. 

“Not tonight,” Bucky said, looking abashed. “My sister gave me shit when I told her about what happened and made me promise that I would get a cab. She’ll be waiting up for me to check - she’s a shit like that.” It was said with love though, and Steve felt a knot of… something… loosen in the pit of his stomach. 

“You live with your sister?” he asked, curious. When he’d met Bucky he was sure he was broke, walking the park at night, looking unsure and hunched in on himself. It seemed like the confident man standing in front of him was a different person. 

Bucky grinned. “She’s going to Columbia,” he said, pride obvious in the way he puffed up a little. “Theoretical Statistics.” He paused. “I have no idea what the fuck that is, but she’s so smart. She had to defer her application for a while - she got through high school like, super quick, but... “ He shrugged. “Money sucks sometimes.”

Steve understood that but he was a little taken aback that Bucky - who had a very successful restaurant in a shockingly expensive part of New York - would cite money as an issue with his sister going to school. It didn’t seem to add up but he didn’t want to ruin the tentative friendship that they were building by putting his foot in his mouth  _ again _ . 

He’d only just unlocked his apartment door when his phone rang, and he nearly dropped his keys in the haste to answer. He wasn’t sure how to take the swoop of disappointment when he saw the caller ID. 

“So?” Sam said, rather than bothering to say hi. “What was it like?”

“Hi Sam, great to see you too,” Steve deadpanned. “How are you? I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

Sam’s laugh was warm and loud. “Sure thing, man, sure. I saw you this afternoon. Tell me everything. I need to know how the other half live.”

Steve grinned and proceeded to go over each dish as well as he could remember, laughing at the sounds Sam made as Steve went over a particularly good description. “I don’t understand why you are asking me all of this, Bucky said you could take your mom.”

Sam laughed. “Steve, I love you, but, man, it’s one of the hottest places to eat in New York. I couldn’t afford to walk through the door, never mind take my mom there. Don’t think I didn’t notice the casual ‘Bucky’ you keep throwing around, by the way.” 

“He told me to call him that.”

“Did he really?” Sam leered down the line. “ _ Call me Bucky, Steve _ ,” he said, voice deep and husky. Steve was laughing as he hung up on his best friend. 

* * *

“Should I call him?”

“Yes.” 

“Yes,” Natasha said, leaning over the pile of books Becca had piled on the coffee table to reach her glass of wine. “Just so you’ll stop going on, and on-”

“And on,” Beccan cut in, without looking up from her books

“And on, about him.” She took a swig of the dark red liquid - a cheap, nasty red that she had no right to drink when she was as loaded as she was. 

Bucky glared at them both, knowing that it wasn’t going to make a difference. They’d been bullying him most of his life - Becca having him wrapped around her little chubby finger since birth and Natasha from the moment she busted his nose on the schoolyard when they were five. He couldn’t quite remember why she punched him, but they were best friends by the time their parents had arrived. His mom - harried, stressed, hair falling out of the bun she’d managed to put up that morning, stains on her waitress uniform. Natasha’s parents in neat, clean clothes that looked a little too old not to be second hand. Neither of them came from money.

“I’ve not been that bad.” 

“It’s been two days and if you don’t call him right now I’m moving in with Tasha,” Becca threatened, looking up at where he’d thrown himself on the couch. She had her glasses on, designer frames that looked like something his grandpa would wear. He had no idea why everyone thought they looked so cool. 

“You say this like it would be a punishment,” he pointed out, getting punched on the thigh for his trouble. 

“Quit being a child and call him. If he’s half as cute as you say he is it’ll be worth it.”

Bucky had to agree. Steve was hot as hell, but also a little awkward. When he smiled, he lit up the room. Bucky thought he was adorable. And hot. Super hot. And he could eat. Sue him, Bucky loved a man who wasn’t scared to try new foods - even if he didn’t know  _ what  _ he was eating. His ex wouldn’t eat a thing unless every ingredient was named in advance. It made taste testing anything a nightmare. 

“Well?” Tasha said, looking at him pointedly. 

Bucky frowned. “I can’t call him  _ now _ , it’s late. He’ll think it’s a booty call.”

“Please never use those words in my presence again,” Becca said, shuddering. “That’s just… really gross.”

“Only cause you ain’t seen his booty,” Bucky leered, causing his sister to laugh and throw her pen at him. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” he promised. For some reason, he felt better just saying it.

* * *

Steve wasn’t expecting his phone to ring - but there it was, vibrating on the table where he’d placed it to have lunch with Sam after their VA meeting. Steve wasn’t quick enough to answer it before Sam saw who it was, and his smirk was wide as Steve swiped the screen. 

“Hey,” he managed, throat drier than the desert he’d left behind in Afghanistan. 

“Hey yourself,” Bucky said, sounding just as cool and relaxed as he was last time Steve saw him. “Did I kill you with food poisoning?” he asked, and Steve could easily imagine the way a smile played over his lips at the question. 

“No…” Steve said, slowly, “but I think you might have ruined me for any other food ever.” He ignored Sam waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he ate his eggs. “I’m at a diner with Sam and it’s like dust in my mouth.” 

“Well that’s the plan.” Bucky laughed. “The best way to a man's heart and all that.” 

Steve blushed. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. The pause on the other side made him feel like maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Bucky thought he might have crossed a line with that comment, so he swallowed and bit the bullet. “Kinda worked,” he said, and couldn’t help but smile at the rush of air that Bucky let out down the line. 

“Awesome,” he said, and, yeah, Steve just knew he was grinning like an idiot. “I was actually going to ask you if you wanted to bring Sam along next time you came over?” A pause. “Although not this week, if you don’t mind. My treat. He can bring his mom and get all dressed up - my treat.”

Steve nodded. Remembering that Bucky couldn’t actually see him, he smiled. “That sounds great. Any reason why this week wouldn’t work?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. “Getting rid of all the other guys you pick up at the park?” 

Sam, sitting obviously listening into the conversation choked on the mouthful of orange juice he’d just taken a swig of, spraying both their plates. Gross. 

Bucky laughed, a loud, happy sound that made Steve grin even wider. “Oh, for sure. I’m beating ‘em off with a stick right now,” he said, voice a smirk. “Actually, I had planned on inviting you both on Wednesday, but the whole place has been booked up for the week. I’m shitting myself - four days where the whole place has been booked out in case Ramonda of Wakanda - you see why I’m shitting myself, right? - in case she decides she’d like to eat out instead of staying with the delegation at Stark Tower.”

Steve found himself oddly proud that Bucky was so successful. It had nothing to do with him and he had no right, but he still felt warm and happy at the thought. “So you’re blowing us off for Wakandan royalty?” he teased. “I dunno, Buck - I feel like a random guy you met in the park should be getting a little better treatment.” 

Bucky laughed again, and Steve kept his eyes off Sam, who was mopping up the orange juice and looking at Steve like any moment he was about to start planning the damn wedding. “Well, how about I made it up to you with a dinner and a movie tomorrow? If you’re free.”

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

* * *

When he hung up the phone, the entire kitchen let out a cheer. 

“Shut up,” he said, no heat in his voice. “Every single of you are fired. Get back to work.” 

The laughter didn’t die off right away, a few of the more established staff winking at him as they got back to work.

“Look at you,” Natasha said, from where she was leaning against the counter. “Going on a date like grown ass man.” 

He tried to glare at her, but he was pretty sure the heat in his face destroyed any chance he had of being taken seriously. “Didn’t I ban you from the kitchen?” he tried, and although he was aiming for stern, he could feel the smile on his lips softening his words. 

“Yeah, like about ten times,” she responded, “and then I reminded you that it’s my kitchen.” She paused. “Although why you won’t let me just sign it over to you, I’ll never know.”

It was a long standing argument and Bucky knew that neither of them would ever back down. 

“Because it was your money.”

“My dead husband's money,” she clarified.

Bucky shrugged, a non-verbal equivalent of ‘same thing’ and looking back down at his phone. Steve had sent him a text. He felt his smile stretch wider. 

“Aww, are you going to be super gross about this guy for much longer?” Natasha said, rolling her eyes. “You look like a teenager who just got asked to prom by a guy with a  _ car _ .” She sounded fond though. He knew it was only a matter of time before she’d demand to meet Steve - but they made a deal a long time ago that the whole ‘meeting the person I lost my virginity to in high school, whom I class as my best friend to this day’ is not something to spring on random hook-ups. 

* * *

The first date went well, despite Bucky being a little distracted by the news that the next day the Queen Mother of the richest country in the world was going to be sitting eating his food. Steve didn’t seem to mind at all as Bucky obsessed a little over it. He seemed… maybe to understand. 

* * *

The second date wasn’t much of a date - Steve asked him over to his place for take-out and a movie. Bucky told him about meeting Ramonda and how nervous he was, Steve told him about how he spent the day volunteering at the VA. They actually watched the whole movie. Bucky spent the first half trying to slide closer to Steve without the other man noticing, but then figured that Steve obviously wasn’t going to mind - he had invited him over after all. He ended up just shifting his butt closer and leaning into Steve's side. It felt a little like high school (Natasha was right sometimes) but it also felt like that was what Steve was waiting for too - his arm wrapped around Buckys shoulders and they finished the rest of the movie close and warm. 

* * *

By the fifth date, Steve was ready to climb the walls. Bucky had been a perfect gentleman every time they went out. He opened doors, he made Steve  laugh. The frustrating thing is that they were both adults and Steve wanted more - he loved the way Bucky would look at him through those illegally long lashes, he loved the way Bucky ducked his head when Steve would say something flirtatious. But by the third date they hadn’t even kissed and Steve really, really wanted to kiss Bucky. A lot. 

“So I thought maybe you’d like to come and hang out with me and Tasha tomorrow?” Bucky suggested as they waited in line for the concession stand. They’d decided on the cinema again because Bucky had work the next day and he was well over the age where rocking up to the kitchen with a hangover was considered an okay thing to do, apparently.

“I was gonna hang out a bit with Sam. I haven’t really spent a lot of time with him since we started dating,” Steve said, distracted by the way Bucky was standing so close. Bucky went a little quiet, and Steve could almost feel the way he tensed up a little. It was weird that they’d only been on five dates but Steve was starting to pick up on the little tells that Bucky had. How he’d get a little tense around larger groups of people, or how he’d roll his shoulders when he was tired. “Or… no?” he hedged, unsure as to why Bucky felt a little more distant than he had a few moments ago. 

“Nothing.” Bucky smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile that lit up his eyes and made him look like he was glowing - it was a little dimmer, a little tighter. “I just… it’s stupid.” 

“I’d rather know what you were thinking than not,” Steve said because if there was one thing he learned from his previous relationships (and so much therapy through the VA), it was that communication was vital - and he wanted to make sure that Bucky knew he was in this for the long haul. “If I’ve done something wrong I’d rather know now so I can fix it, or understand at least.” 

He didn’t like the way Bucky looked awkward, embarrassed. “It’s really nothing. I just… I thought it could be like… meeting Tasha?”

Steve blinked. “Oh.”

“I said it was stupid. I know it’s not a big deal for you to meet her. It’s just Tash.” 

Steve wasn’t sure what to say to that. They shuffled forward with the rest of the line. It took him longer than he’d like to admit for him to work out what Bucky was trying (and failing) to ask. “Wait, did you mean like… meet my best friend?” he said after a moment, and he was pretty sure if this was a cartoon he’d have a lightbulb over his head, flashing on and off.

“You make it sound like a big deal,” Bucky said, but there was a hint of colour on his cheeks and Steve just wanted to kiss him so bad. He just wasn’t sure if he was allowed. 

“You want me to meet your best friend,” Steve clarified. “Sounds like a big deal to me.” He paused. “You know… Sam has been riding my ass to actually meet you properly. Why don’t we make it a thing? My place, take out, both our best friends. It’ll be great.”

* * *

It was  _ not  _ great. Steve was a giant liar, Bucky realised, as he sat and watched Natasha and Sam destroy each other over a game of Uno.

“I thought this was a kids game?” he complained, looking over at Steve - who, like him, was holding more cards than he could fit in his hands. “Why do I feel like this is not a kids game?”

“Because you’ve always been soft,” Tasha said, grinning like a shark. “Pick up four.” 

“This was supposed to be a nice evening where you could meet Steve and maybe give him the shovel talk while I sat silently in the background being mortified,” Bucky said, looking at his overflowing hand. 

“Well,” Natasha said, looking over at Steve. “I’m pretty sure I could take him in a fight. But going on the way he keeps looking at you like you hung the stars, I think I’ll skip the ‘I can, and will, kill you’ part of the introductions.”

“You think you could take on Steve?” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “He’s twice the size of you.”

“They never did find out how my late husband died,” she pointed out, without a smile. “Reverse and back to you.”  

Bucky (who knew the man was shot during a mugging) always thought it was a little scary how she always managed to make it seem like she could have killed him. But he didn’t laugh too much at Sam’s awestruck expression - he was too busy watching the way Steve blushed at what Natasha had said. God, Bucky wanted to kiss him so bad. He was starting to think that he was going to have to make the first move before they both died of unresolved sexual tension. For all Steve could be authoritative when he needed to be, Bucky was learning that he really wasn’t the most confident person in the world. It was just another part of him that Bucky was falling too quickly in love with. 

Sam groaned and put down another card. “I should not find that so hot,” he muttered, and both Bucky and Steve laughed at the smug expression on Tasha’s face. 

* * *

This was it. Steve was ready. Sam had already left and Natasha was putting on her coat, talking to Bucky by the door. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but Bucky was red as a beetroot and she kept looking over at Steve with a smirk. 

“Well, I had fun, boys,” she said as she opened the door. “Next time, we should try Monopoly,” she added with a wink. 

“Yeah, no.” Steve laughed. “Uno was bad enough, Monopoly would be a bloodbath.” 

“I thought that was the point?” She smiled, before kissing Bucky on the cheek. “It was nice to meet you Steve,” she said over her shoulder as she walked out, Bucky closing the door behind her.

“I can’t tell if she likes me or not,” Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. She was difficult to read. Bucky, though, didn’t seem to hear him as he walked over to where he was standing, stopping dead in front of him. 

“She likes you plenty,” he said, looking up at him. His eyes were the most beautiful dark blue Steve had ever seen, and they glittered in the lighting. “Steve. I’m going to kiss you, if that's okay?” he said, eyes fixed on Steve's face. 

The momentary shock of Bucky just asking wore off the instant Bucky looked like he was pulling back. Steve reached out, holding the smaller man in place, and leaned down just a fraction. 

* * *

 

Bucky had been thinking about what kissing Steve would be like, but nothing - nothing - was even near to the gentleness of the other man's lips - a little hesitant, a little dry. It was over fast, too fast for Bucky. He pulled Steve closer, a hand fisted in his shirt, and kissed him again. 

This time, it was perfect. Bucky could feel the heat from Steve's body through the shirt he was wearing, how he shifted closer to Bucky, hands reaching up to gently cup the back of his head like he was something precious to hold. With Steve holding him, he certainly felt precious. 

After a few moments, Steve pulled back, just enough to breathe. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I saw you in the park,” he said, warm air tingling at Bucky's lips. “You looked… so good.”

Bucky laughed and leaned in to kiss him quick. “I looked like a hobo, you liar.” 

“Hot hobo though.” Steve grinned, and Bucky could feel his smile as they kissed, deeper, longer. He wasn’t gonna lie, he could feel the warm curling of  _ more  _ in the pit of his stomach reaching out through his system. It seemed that Steve felt it too - shifting them even closer together, taking one hand out of where it had curled into Buckys hair and pulling him closer by the hip. Yeah, Bucky could get used to this.

* * *

“I thought if you were getting laid on the regular you’d be less sickeningly cute,” Natasha said, kicking Bucky as he walked past the table where Steve, Becca and Sam were once again crammed together in the kitchen - this time with a whole menu of food in front of them. Bucky had learned that Steve was actually useless as a taste-tester - he loved everything. Sam, however, was a closet foodie and had (on occasion) given Bucky a blistering review on a plate that would make the NYT critics blanch. Bucky appreciated that. Becca fell somewhere between them. She still wouldn’t try the liver though. 

“Didn’t I ban you from my kitchen?” he said, grinning. It was hard to be mad at anyone when he was so damn happy. Steve was near - and Bucky had found that Steve being near improved even the worst day. It had been a bit touch and go a few months previous when some idiot blogger with a following described Winter Soldier's menu as a ‘limp, hollow attempt to garner a Michelin Star’ and Bucky was crushed. Without Steve (and his kisses) Bucky knew he would have fallen into a dip of ‘not good enough’. With Steve - and his friends - around him, however, he’d been able to see that one bad review wasn’t going to kill his restaurant. Especially when the Wakandan royal family booked out  _ another  _ night. Bucky had been even more nervous - he’d just launched a new fall menu and he still wasn’t sure how it was sitting with patrons - but it went well. Better than he could have hoped. Not only did the Queen Mother compliment him on ‘yet another excellent meal’ (he might have committed this to memory), she told him that she’d recommended Winter Soldier to her son if he was ever in the area. 

Steve, of course, acted like this was all just part of Bucky being himself. “What else was she going to say?” He’d grinned when Bucky practically floated back to the apartment they had decided to rent. “You  _ are  _ the best chef in New York.” 

 

Bucky looked over at the table and smiled. All of his favorite people in the one room made it impossible to be anything but content. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Jana, who asked for some tooth rotting fluff, with Big!Steve and Pre-War!Bucky. I hope that this is what you were looking for! Thank you so much for the chance to write this for you!


End file.
